The beginning of Glory
by Iustus Fidelis
Summary: Why did von Hammersmark become a spy? Why did Stiglitz kill all those officers? and what is the connection? My take on Briget, and her history with the mysterious Hugo Stiglitz...


Munich, 1940

Bridget Von Hammersmark gazed idly out of her window, watching the first snows of winter flutter softly to the ground. The night was obscuring her view of the mountains, but she knew what they would look like. The towering peaks of the Bavarian Highlands would already be dipped in soft white powder, dotted sporadically with giant fir trees, and reflected on the surface of enormous blue lakes. Bridget smiled. Germany had some of the most beautiful country in all of Europe. She loved her homeland and every piece of it. She had even loved the government, and all the good things they were doing for the German people- once. There was minimal unemployment, the crime rate was low and the people had found a reason to smile again after the devastation of the First World War. That was what Bridget had believed until recently.

Her reverie broken, Bridget looked back to the papers sitting in her lap. They were illegal newspapers, from the resistance. She had already read them twice, but she wanted to be sure of every detail before she burned them. It would be considered treason to have them found in her possession, and even her status as 'the best young talent in all the fatherland' would not save her. She would lose everything. Bridget looked at the photos of emaciated babies in what the resistance were calling death camps. She looked into the hollowed eyes of the 'inmates' and wondered how many of them had died since the paper had been printed. Unable to bear the newspaper any longer Bridget rose from her Sofa and threw the sheets in the crackling fireplace.

How had it all gone so wrong? When the government had started to clean up the streets things were good. Now there were people dying by the thousand. It didn't matter that they were Jewish, or Gypsies, or non-Germans! They were still people. A tear rolled down Bridget's cheek as she sent a silent prayer into the night, that God might ease their suffering. Frustrated by her feelings, Bridget brushed away the rogue tear. She couldn't be seen crying now! In a few minutes a car would be coming to collect her. She had been invited to a very exclusive party. She had to be ready, she had to have her famous silver screen smile in place, she had to be charming, and she had to be the poster girl for Aryan poise. She smoothed her long red dress and took a few deep breaths to quench the nausea lingering over her. In the morning she would figure out a way to reach out to the resistance. Perhaps she could help them in some way. Perhaps they could still recover the beauty of the German land, before it drowned in the blood of their alleged enemies.

Bridget started at the sound of a very military knocking on her front door.

"Coming." She sang out in what she hoped was her most melodic and pleasant tone. She swallowed hard as she strode confidently to her door. She was a great actress; she could feign sincerity for a few hours this evening. It would signal the death of her career if she couldn't! She pulled the door open and beamed at the man on her doorstep.

"Lieutenant Colonel Landa! I thought you had stood me up!" She chided playfully, offering her hand

"Frauline, Von Hammersmark, my sincerest apologies. I was unavoidably detained." He explained as he bowed and kissed the back of her hand. Bridget recoiled inwardly, but her smile never slipped.

"Well, you must forgive me for not inviting you in, but we shall have to leave immediately if we are to be on time." Bridget said as she grabbed her coat from the stand beside the door, pushing the image of half singed resistance papers from her mind.

"Of course." the Lt. Colonel replied succinctly, holding her coat for her as she slipped into it. She pulled the fur collar tightly around her neck, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as was proper.

"Why thank you, Lieutenant Col." She smiled.

"You're more than welcome, my dear. Though perhaps I should inform you? The reason I was detained is that I am no longer a Lieutenant Col. I have been promoted to full Colonel!" The pride beaming from Hans Landa could have melted the snowcaps of the mountains, as he pointed to the new rank insignia pinned to his immaculate SS uniform. Bridget stopped in her tracks.

"Full Colonel?" She gasped with what she hoped was the correct amount of admiration. "Congratulations, Herr Colonel!" She exclaimed, kissing the air beside each of his cheeks.

"Frauline Von Hammersmark," He whispered before she could pull away from him, "perhaps you would congratulate me with a proper kiss on this one occasion? My promotion would pale in comparison to such a gift!"

The nausea that had been looming over Bridget threatened to bubble over.

"Herr Colonel," She pulled away in mock horror "What would the papers write of me, if the saw me kissing my friends in such a manner!" She turned back to the car, politely signalling the end of the discussion so as not to out right offend the Colonel. It did not pay to slight the upper echelons of The Third Reich, especially not the upper echelons of Hitler's Schutzstaffel, and especially if you were an actress with aspirations of helping the resistance.

Hans Landa was the perfect gentleman for the rest of the evening. He opened doors for her, took her coat and escorted her around the party. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of party the Colonel had led her to believe. There were legions of German officers, but nobody at all worth talking to for her. She sighed longingly. The only person she wanted to talk to was Dr. Goebbles, but Hans seemed more content talking to his officer brethren, regaling them with his boring stories and pompous charisma. It led her to draw only one conclusion. Colonel Landa had invited her to a party for his own personal gain.

Frustrated and annoyed Bridget drew her cigarette case from her purse. She rummaged around her bag for a lighter, but came up empty. Shei , she cursed to herself. She looked to the Colonel, but he was deeply engrossed in emphasising his importance, and no doubt he would be a while.

"Frauline?" a voice inquired from her left hand side. Bridget turned her head and almost lost her composure. She was certain she was looking at the most handsome man in all the Reich. His eyes gleamed the same steely grey as his uniform, the cut of the jacket accentuating his strong jaw-line. Bridget allowed herself to melt internally. Not only did he have the features of a Scandinavian God, his demeanour bled the magnetism Bridget craved. She could feel the disdain and contempt rolling off him in waves, but at the same time she could feel an undertone of mischief and wile. He was like a caged eagle, or tethered stallion dying to run amok; it drove Bridget silently wild.

She smiled warmly at him and accepted a glass of champagne from the tray he was carrying.

"Sergeant?" She called as he began to walk away "I was wondering if you had a lighter? I seem to have misplaced mine." She said. The sergeant smiled at her, his face forming a series of charming dimples, as he reached into his pocket.

"Ja vhool, Fraulein." He said producing the flame for her. She placed the cigarette delicately between her lips and reached out to hold his wrist while she lit the smoke.

"Danke, Sergeant." She said, oozing as much charm as she could muster. She was sure she could feel his interest in her as he tucked the lighter back in his pocket.

"That'll be all, Sergeant Stiglitz." Hans snapped from beside her, his distaste clearly evident by his tone. The Sergeant snapped his heels together and stiffened up momentarily before returning to his stewarding duties. Bridget was intrigued and she watched the Sergeant as he walked away. When she could no longer see him through the crowd, Bridget turned to her escort.

"Cololnel Landa?" She questioned during a momentary lull in bland conversation. "Forgive my civilian curiosity, but isn't it usually the lower ranks of the Reich that serve at these sorts of functions?"

"Indeed, my dear, why do you ask?" He chuckled at her innocence.

"Well, I just had my cigarette lit by a Sergeant, and whilst he's no Colonel," She said, gracefully stroking his ego "it is one of the higher enlisted ranks, is it not?" Hans Landa's expression clouded over.

"Yes. Sergeant Stiglitz," he sneered, "he is a stain on the white tablecloth of the Reich! No doubt he's committed some new offence and is being punished for it."

"Rightly so." Bridget offered, as the conversation swung back to Landa and his countless opinions.


End file.
